My heart did thump in such a coldish breast
As once she passed my sight, then I am dumb
I heard no sound, my brain was dark and numb
They went, my ears, my friend said “This, the test"

With nothing signaling she'd noticed me
I'd not abandon hope, I'd never doubt
My love, she was, I would so often shout
I tried so hard, I worked to make her see

some say we’re just a freak of nature’s growth
that sentience is solely due to this
and rational, scientific brains are loath
to even contemplate a future bliss

they say that when we die we’re finished, past
from dust we come and so to dust return
there’s nothing in this world that’s made to last
and truth beyond, we simply can't discern

although, it’s true, from here has gone his spark
while sat in tranquil introspective thought
his love has borne me down that tunnel dark
and peaceful, blest illumination brought

your light’s no longer part of Earthly play
since many years, you woke beyond the cloak
my inmost centre misses every day
a smile from you, a hug, a wink, a joke

if only life could be reversed in time
I’d somehow, someway, journey back to then
to where, my son, your cosmos merged with mine
your smile, your voice and touch enjoy again

but cheating seconds, minutes, even hours
a parting yet once more would be our fate
the pain to bear anew... the moment sours
at thought of that, it does my hunger sate

I write, my fingers bleed, I write some more.
A strange chartreusian charm it blends and spills.
The marks are mad as if I fuck a whore
and soon I break another lifeless quill.

But what it is I write, there lay the rub,
for I am clueless as to all this fuss.
My fingers, hand with which I write I stub
and tear the quills and drain the ink and cuss.

Blessed, what I write is in my teeming mind
if not upon the black, blood stainéd page:
of love and need beyond this life to find
and how I reek of illness and of age.